


never better

by harinezumi_kun



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumi_kun/pseuds/harinezumi_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nino can’t imagine this working out without some kind of terrible consequence. Which isn’t to say that he hasn’t imagined it at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never better

**Author's Note:**

> written for g_esquared for the 2012 ninoexchange. from the original note - to all my betas, handholders, supporters: thank you for putting up with me ♥ To Gee: I AM SO GLAD YOU LIKED THIS ;_;

It’s late, and the room is filled with that midnight silence that feels so lonely, so intimate. To Nino, perched on the edge of the bed, it seems like all the eyes in the whole unsleeping city are staring straight at him, and he feels panicked. He wants to throw things, to shout, can feel himself shaking with every breath. No, no; it’s anger, he tells himself. He’s angry, because Ohno won’t let it go.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t talk about it,” Ohno says softly. “Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

“We’re done,” Nino says again, and stands. “I want you to leave.”

When Nino turns to glance back, Ohno has that look on his face, that inscrutable expression that encompasses a whole world of emotions. Some people have a hard time figuring it out—if Ohno’s bored, if he’s intrigued, confused—but Nino knows Ohno, and he knows that deep, aching sadness in Ohno’s eyes.

“But,” Ohno begins, and:

“Don’t,” Nino interrupts. “All of this—with all of you—we’re just fooling around, right? So don’t act like this is a big deal. Just go.”

He stares Ohno down, determined not to look away because that will make it seem like this is doing more than just making him angry.

“Okay,” is all Ohno says. “Okay, Nino.”

*

It _isn’t_ a big deal.

Nino has been sleeping with his bandmates for almost as long as they’ve been a band. At first it had made him a little nervous, sure, but none of them ever acted weird about it. Plus, in a company whose entire talent pool is male, it’s not unusual for someone to be gay, or to want to experiment, or just want to get off and not have to bother finding a girl who won’t run to the tabloids. And of everyone in the company, Arashi are the ones Nino sees day in and day out, they’ve been together the longest, he’s comfortable with them. He knows the rest of them do it, too, like a big secret game of musical chairs, and like he told Ohno, it’s really not a big deal.

There’s nothing to talk about, anyway. Talking about it is dangerous, things are fine the way they are. Nino knows where he stands with all of them—and he thinks he’s worked out where they all stand with each other—and there’s no need to go trying to change it.

“But we could, Nino,” Ohno had said hopefully. “It would be even better.”

And then Nino threw him out. He can’t do it, what Ohno’s suggesting, he can’t imagine it working out without some kind of terrible consequence.

Which isn’t to say that he hasn’t imagined it at all.

*

 _Aiba_

Nino starts fooling around with Aiba when they’re young, when they’re experimenting with stuff. Nino doesn’t think of it as being in a relationship or anything—he swore off all that love stuff when his parents got divorced, saw the danger in it—but he wonders, sometimes, what Aiba thinks. They don’t really talk about it. It’s kind of weird, actually, because they talk about girls a lot while they’re doing all their experimenting, while they’re making out or touching each other. Nino thinks he still does like girls—all their curves and short skirts and perfume smells—but there’s never time to do any of this _with_ girls, and plus, girls would probably want to get serious about it.

Nino has his first times with Aiba—first kiss, first _French_ kiss, first hand-job, first blow-job. He thinks all the firsts are mutual, but he can’t be sure with Aiba, and he never asks. They have sex for the first time when Nino is seventeen and Aiba is eighteen. They’ve been debuted for a little more than a year, and tensions have been running high for almost as long. It’s kind of a miracle it didn’t happen sooner, really.

They’re in Aiba’s bed, everything around them familiar—Aiba’s striped sheets, the smell of their own bodies like a part of the fabric, the hush of the house and how quiet they have to be because the rest of Aiba’s family is just down the hall. They’re all the way naked and this is familiar, too, the tight press of their hips, and sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. But Nino needs more, and he asks for it on a breath that Aiba steals away from him almost immediately.

“Aiba-chan? Will you fuck me?”

Aiba doesn’t freeze, doesn’t gasp in shock. It seems to take him a few moments to register what Nino just said. After another long kiss, Aiba pulls away, blinking dazedly.

“What?” he murmurs, then blinks again, a hint of surprise creeping into his voice. “What?”

“You heard me,” Nino grumbles, trying to sound more confident then he feels. “Will you?”

Aiba smiles then, slowly but excited. And pleased, Nino can tell by his breathy little laugh. Nino wants to ask him what’s so funny, but it’s lost on a whine as Aiba grinds them together purposefully.

“Yes,” Aiba says simply. “Do you have—?”

“In my bag,” Nino says, cutting Aiba off before he can actually say “lube” or “condoms” and make this even more awkward.

Aiba clambers out of the bed with another giggle. “You came prepared, huh?”

“Shut up.” Nino throws an arm over his face while he listens to Aiba rustling around on the floor and tries not to think too hard about what’s going to happen. It’s not like it’s a big deal—Nino’s been thinking about this, planning for it, and he’s managed to get four fingers into himself without much pain—and this is Aiba, who has done almost every other intimate thing to Nino that they’ve been able to think of. But still, Nino feels suddenly, excruciatingly aware of his body and its nakedness.

Aiba climbs back into bed, all knees and elbows, and drops the stuff from Nino’s bag next to the pillow.

“So,” Aiba says, sounding a little breathless, overexcited. “How do you wanna...I mean, do you wanna roll over or—?”

“No,” Nino says immediately. This is already embarrassing enough without his ass in the air. “Just do it. You do know what to do, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aiba replies quickly. He settles himself between Nino’s legs and picks up the lube again. Nino hears the cap pop open and his erection throbs. He takes a deep breath.

“Slippery,” Aiba giggles as he coats his fingers. Nino just gives an impatient grunt, and then it turns into a startled gasp when he feels Aiba’s finger slide between his cheeks to brush against his entrance. And now Nino is very sure that, this time, he isn’t Aiba’s first because the way Aiba touches Nino is so practiced, so good. His fingers circle a few times—gentle, testing—before one slips in, just to the first knuckle. There’s hardly anything to it, but there’s just something about knowing that it’s somebody else, that it’s _Aiba_ inside him, that makes Nino clench.

“Ah,” Aiba breathes, and he sounds equal parts turned on and intrigued. “Relax,” he whispers, his free hand moving soothingly against Nino’s hip.

“I know,” Nino says through his teeth.

Nino tries to breathe, to loosen up, and Aiba keeps at it, working up to two fingers, then three, generous with the lube. Briefly, Nino wonders who it could be that Aiba’s done this with before. There are almost literally dozens of possibilities—it could be anyone, someone from school, from Johnny’s. It could be someone else in Arashi, and for a moment Nino’s head spins at the thought of Aiba doing this with one of the others, hesitant fingers moving in and out of Jun, or maybe Sho—but Nino can’t hold onto any thought very long past the sensation of Aiba stretching him. Eventually the strangeness of the whole thing wears off, and Nino pushes back against Aiba’s fingers with a startled “ _oh_ ”.

“Oh,” Nino says again, low. “Now, I’m ready now.”

“Okay,” Aiba breathes, pulling his fingers out slowly. Nino can feel how open he is, and the crinkle of the condom wrapper sends sparks shooting through his veins. But after almost a full minute of crinkling, Nino just sits up and grabs the condom from Aiba, who has apparently been trying to open it one-handed.

“Give me that,” Nino snaps. He tears open the foil and bats Aiba’s hands away so he can roll the condom onto Aiba himself. Nino had only been trying to hurry things along, but this earns him a lovely, low moan from Aiba. Nino pumps Aiba’s cock a few more times, then catches his mouth for a messy kiss.

“Hurry up,” Nino says sweetly, after he’s pulled away. He lays down again, keeping his arms on Aiba’s shoulders, letting his legs drop open, wide and inviting. It’s dark, but Nino can still see the way Aiba is eyeing him hungrily, can see how quickly Aiba is working lube over his cock, and suddenly Nino feels ready, so ready for this.

“Okay,” Aiba huffs, rearranging himself, leaning over Nino a bit. “Here I go.”

“Just—” Nino begins, but he doesn’t have to say it, because Aiba is. As stretched as Nino felt before, Aiba’s cock feels impossibly huge as it presses into him. That should be all he can think about, that should be everything, but.

Suddenly, unbidden, Nino’s mind goes back to Arashi: he thinks of Ohno. Admittedly, he has kind of a crush on Ohno, but he’s never thought about Ohno when he’s with Aiba, not before now when he thinks: _What if this were Ohno?_

In the space of a second, he imagines how things might have turned out differently: maybe, instead of all that flirting, he would have made out with Ohno when they met on _Kyo to Kyo_ , then when they debuted together maybe Nino’s nervous tension would have come out in a confession, or just some desperate fumbling in a hotel room, and then maybe something more. And then just as suddenly, he thinks: _Or what if this were Jun? Or Sho?_ He’s known both of them almost as long as he’s known Aiba, he sees the scenarios in his head, can imagine their hands and mouths on his, and for a breaking, breathless moment it feels to Nino like all of them are there, watching, and they know—they _know_ that Nino is thinking about them. His hands tighten on Aiba’s shoulders, and he feels his body tighten around Aiba’s cock, and they both let out a soft hiss.

“Nino,” Aiba says on a quiet whine. “Sorry, I’m sorry, are you okay, do you want me to—?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m—just—don’t stop. I’m fine.”

Aiba nods in response, and despite Nino’s demand, stills for the space of a few breaths. Nino breathes with him—in, out, in—until Aiba starts to move again.

Nino loses track of the time passing as his world collapses down to the feeling of Aiba inside him, to breathing, to keeping quiet. Not that Aiba seems too worried about all the noise he’s making. He lets out little whimpers, whines, gasps— _like a girl_ , Nino wants to tell him, but he doesn’t have the air to do it—and he just won’t shut up.

“I wish I could hear you, Nino,” Aiba whispers in the dark. “Wish I could really see you.” And: “It’s really good, Nino, it feels so—”

Nino quiets him with a kiss, and the angle drives Aiba even deeper. Without meaning to, Nino moans into Aiba’s mouth. Aiba gasps again, and he’s suddenly speeding up, thrusting a quick staccato rhythm before he goes stiff, muffling another noise against Nino’s shoulder. Another slow push, a slow pull, and then Aiba goes boneless. He collapses on top of Nino with a windy, satisfied sigh.

“Hey,” Nino snaps, still achingly hard, his frustration adding a whine to his tone. Aiba just wraps his arms around Nino for a hug, and Nino gives Aiba’s shoulder a shove. “Hey,” he says again, a little more desperately.

“Ah, right,” Aiba replies sleepily, finally catching on. In Aiba’s current post-coital state, Nino is expecting a lazy hand job, but Aiba is nothing if not full of surprises. With another pleased sounding sigh, he slides down Nino’s body and wraps his lips around Nino’s cock. Nino smothers a grateful cry into his elbow, and only moments later he comes against the back of Aiba’s throat.

“That,” Nino pants, when Aiba’s moved back to the head of the bed. “You didn’t have to...”

Aiba just shrugs, and Nino can tell he’s grinning even though it’s so dark. “Makes cleaning up easier.”

“Lazy,” Nino chuckles.

They lie there without speaking for a long while, though Nino knows they at least need to clean up a little—throw away Aiba’s condom, maybe put some pajamas on, in case Aiba’s mom comes to wake them up in the morning. Aiba is curled up next to Nino with his arms folded in front of him and his hands tucked under his head. Nino can feel Aiba’s breath against his shoulder, how it’s slowing and evening out. It seems kind of anticlimactic, somehow, but Nino feels more relieved than anything else. That this doesn’t change anything.

“We had sex,” Aiba says, and Nino startles a little, because he had thought Aiba was asleep.

“Yup,” Nino agrees, pretending he’s mostly asleep.

“It was nice,” Aiba murmurs. “So are we—?”

“What?” Nino asks, irritable.

“Are we, like, serious now, or—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nino grumbles, rolling over, pretending some more: pretending he really doesn’t know what Aiba means, pretending he doesn’t hear Aiba’s little disappointed sigh. After a moment, though, Aiba lets it drop. He does an abbreviated clean-up, then curls himself against Nino’s back. Aiba’s tall enough now that Nino fits very neatly into the crescent of his body, and for a moment Nino savors their matching curve.

That night, Nino dreams of other bodies in the bed, all five of them somehow fitting on Aiba’s tiny twin mattress, fitting just right.

*

Nino regrets kicking Ohno out almost immediately after the door closes behind the other man. Nino knows he does this, sometimes: takes the first dramatic, rash decision that comes to his mind and goes with it despite the more reasonable voices in his head telling him to reconsider.

He has to see them all the next day for filming, though, and he’s a pro at acting like nothing happened, like nothing has changed. Ohno plays along, but Nino can see how Ohno’s still waiting, a little bit. When their eyes catch, Ohno holds Nino’s gaze longer than usual, the tiniest acknowledgement that the ball is in Nino’s court now. And despite all Nino’s pretending, he knows that Ohno knows that Nino’s thinking about it now, maybe. _Well?_ Ohno doesn’t say, _what are you going to do about it?_

And in this, like everything else, Nino can’t help but compare all of them, he’s always comparing them—what would Jun have done, or Sho, if Nino had thrown them out like that? Certainly, they wouldn’t have gone quietly, like Ohno did. What would Aiba do?

Except, Nino remembers suddenly—remembers still, down to the twisting feeling in his gut—Aiba was the one who told Nino to go, told him maybe they should stop fooling around since he was seeing this girl now and it was kind of serious. And of course Nino had gone without a protest, because there was no reason not to, it’s not like it was a big deal.

But Nino had still been there after that girl, and in between girls, Aiba’s and his own. And he had found ways to fill the time when Aiba wasn’t there to fool around with.

*

 _Sho_

The thing with Sho is—Nino’s not sure. Not love, something born out of jealousy, maybe. After Nino and Aiba stop fooling around, or experimenting, or whatever it had been, Nino is able to step back a bit. He has a reason now, too, to pay more attention to the rest of Arashi, even if it’s a reason he’ll never talk about out loud. He can see, from a little distance, how Aiba and Sho have gotten closer, gotten to be the kind of friends Nino thought he and Aiba were—but maybe that’s changing, Nino thinks and perhaps it’s a little bitter, maybe they’re growing up.

But there’s something else to it, too, something Nino recognizes. The way Aiba keeps looking at Sho, the way he used to look at Nino, part of Nino just wants to get there first. To be able to say, if Aiba ever brings it up, that yeah, he’d slept with Sho, no big deal. He kind of hates himself for it, but there is also the fact that Sho is very hot and, as it turns out, very accommodating when it comes to sex.

Sho likes to drink in his hotel room after shows on tour, just a little before bed he says, although Nino knows that someone as smart as Sho should know that alcohol does nothing to help you sleep. Nino had shown up at Sho’s door with a couple beers and only the vague idea that things might work out in his favor, had not expected Sho to say, after only fifteen minutes of Nino subtly invading his personal space: “Are we going to have sex?”

Nino blinks and then—he can’t help it—he giggles. Maybe he’s just excited that Sho caught on so quick.

“You want to?” Nino asks, conversational. They’re sitting at the foot of the bed, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, and Nino slips an arm around Sho’s waist. It’s a clear invitation, but it’s also something Nino does all the time, something that can be written off later if Sho suddenly changes his mind.

He doesn’t though, but instead leans into Nino’s touch, turns into it, until they are practically nose to nose. Sho is looking at him earnestly, the alcohol adding an extra shimmer to his gaze. And this is something Nino has always loved about Sho, something that makes him so much fun to play with: Sho is always so serious, even when he’s being ridiculous, even when he’s being a sap, he does it all with such devotion.

“That’s why you’re here,” Sho says softly. “Isn’t it?”

“I guess you really are the smart one,” Nino replies, and then Sho is kissing him.

And here, again, Sho is earnest and sincere: he kisses Nino with such sweetness, just lips moving against lips at first, tasting and touching and almost polite. Nino shifts until he can get his other arm around Sho, too, and he feels Sho’s hands come up over his shoulders, around the back of his neck. Without meaning to, Nino gasps, a quick breath through his nose, at the first touch of Sho’s tongue. They’re not kids anymore—Sho’s getting ready to graduate from college, even—but Nino suddenly feels like a teenager again, all butterflies and racing heartbeats. It’s annoying, honestly, so Nino pulls Sho down on top of him on the bed, hoping to take things in a more grown-up direction. Distantly, he hears the soft thud of a beer bottle tipping over on the carpet—probably Sho’s, it had been next to his foot—but luckily they’ve already drunk most of the beer.

They keep making out for a while, and after a few minutes Sho rolls them, so Nino is on top. Nino rolls them back. This happens a few more times before Nino realizes something’s going on. Then Sho, underneath Nino again, wraps his legs tight around Nino’s waist, and Nino finally gets it.

“Oh,” he says on a breathy laugh.

“What?” Sho mumbles, sounding a little nervous despite having his face buried in Nino’s neck.

“Nothing,” Nino says. “Nothing.”

Nino has to admit he wasn’t expecting this, even for as long as he’s known Sho. He knows Sho likes to be in control of the situation, had never pictured him as a bottom, but then, Nino can be pretty controlling himself and ends up on the bottom often enough. It’s very appealing, somehow, having Sho so willing like this, whining into Nino’s kisses, now, and when Nino starts to tug on Sho’s shirt, Sho whispers, barely audible but enough to send a sharp spike of lust straight to Nino’s gut: “Please.”

So Nino plays with Sho a little bit, finding out what else makes him say “please”, what else he likes. Nino can do this with more confidence, now that he’s had more experience—there were the girls, of course, and other boys besides Aiba, but never anyone he knew, never anyone he saw again. Nino holds Sho down by his wrists, sinks his teeth hard into the skin of Sho’s throat, and drags his nails down Sho’s sides. It is not until they are both finally naked that Sho sits up and goes to his bag for lube and condoms. Nino has some of his own in his pants pocket—he did come here with the intention of getting laid, after all—but he’s perfectly happy to use Sho’s, too.

But when Nino reaches out to take the little bottle, Sho just shakes his head, grinning. He situates himself on the bed on all fours, most of his weight on his elbows. Nino sits back and watches as Sho coats his fingers and then reaches back, preparing himself. Nino strokes himself in time to the movement of Sho’s hand and he feels suddenly sorry that he never did this for Aiba, because the way Sho looks right now, how his arm and shoulder work, and how his fingers disappear between his cheeks—it’s beautiful, really. There’s the way Sho’s looking at him, too: watching Nino watching him, licking his lips in anticipation.

“Nino,” Sho says finally, when Nino is contemplating just pulling Sho’s hand out of the way and taking over. “Nino, come on.”

And Nino does, too quickly not to seem a little desperate. He positions himself, curled over Sho’s back, hands at Sho’s hips to steady him, to steady both of them.

Then, as Nino’s preparing to push in, it happens again, like it did with Aiba. But this time Nino thinks of Jun, and wonders not for the first time how real his old “crush” on Sho was. What if it _was_ real, what if Jun were the one having sex with Sho right now? Jun’s pushy, too, likes to be in control—maybe it’d be just like this, with Jun bent over Sho’s back, hands gripping his waist, black nail polish stark against Sho’s pale skin. Or maybe, just this time, because it’s Sho, Jun would let himself surrender to someone else for once, maybe he’d be face down on the mattress instead.

Ohno and Aiba flit through Nino’s mind, too, especially Aiba—but Nino sees himself like this with Aiba, something they’ve never actually done—because Aiba’s the reason he’s doing this at all, right? Finally, Nino thrusts forward, and Sho groans long and loud. Maybe not, Nino thinks, feeling a little dizzy, a little crazy, _maybe that’s just another excuse_. Because right now, he doesn’t care anymore if he got to Sho first, he doesn’t care that maybe Aiba and Sho have already slept together. He wonders, instead, how they look, like this, how Aiba touches Sho and the sounds they make, and he imagines one of them, both of them, turning to Nino with dark, dark eyes.

Nino loses track of things after that, caught up in the feeling of Sho, hot and tight around his cock, and how Sho has started chanting a jumble of syllables, something that sounds like “please, Nino—yes, oh, please”. Nino realizes he should probably be touching Sho right now, and reaches under Sho to wrap a hand around his leaking erection. It’s kind of amazing that Sho hasn’t touched himself yet, his hands still fisted in the sheets by his head.

_Lazy_ , Nino thinks, dropping his forehead against Sho’s back. Lazy, just like Aiba, making Nino do all the work. Nino pushes, pulls, feels the sweat on his skin and Sho’s making everything so slick. Even if Nino is doing all the work, knowing that Sho is making all those noises and getting so hard just from Nino, just from Nino touching him makes up for it a little.

It’s not much longer after that before Sho comes, making a mess of the sheets and Nino’s hand. The feeling of Sho’s release hot against his palm, and the clenching of Sho’s muscles around him, is like an electric shock, and Nino comes almost immediately afterward, biting down on Sho’s shoulder when he does.

“Urg,” Sho groans after a few moments. He shifts under Nino’s dead weight. “Messy.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Nino mutters, rolling away and stretching luxuriously.  
“I could very easily argue that it’s yours,” Sho points out, already up and stumbling towards the bathroom. Nino hears running water, and then Sho comes back with a damp cloth. He takes care of Nino’s condom, his messy hand, and swipes hopefully at the bed, though he does little more than leave a wet spot on the sheets.

“How am I supposed to sleep on this?” Sho pouts.

Feeling unusually generous, Nino hauls himself out of bed and starts searching for his clothes. “Just come sleep in my room, then. It won’t keep you up if I game for a bit, will it?”

“Oh.” Sho says, and then falls silent for a moment.

And here’s where Sho hesitates. Not when Nino showed up with the beer, not when Nino started flirting with him, and not at all when it came to the sex, but now. Nino doesn’t turn around, or ask what’s the matter, because he knows Sho is deciding right now whether they should “talk about it”, if this is something serious. Already back in the baggy t-shirt and sweats he showed up in, Nino heads for the door.

“You coming?”

“Oh,” Sho says again. He scrambles quickly into some pants. “Uh. Yeah, okay.”

So Sho follows Nino out, and they don’t talk about it. Once they’re settled in Nino’s room and Nino has started up his GameBoy, Sho is snoring within minutes. It’s a lot like when they used to share rooms together on tours and on location shoots, except that in the white-blue light of his screen, Nino can see the mark he left on Sho’s shoulder.

Nino pauses his game to trace the little half-circle lightly. Sho shivers in his sleep, and Nino shivers thinking of how much prettier it would be as one of many.

*

In the end, Nino doesn’t do anything about Ohno, except that night he calls Aiba, because even if he’s still not speaking to Ohno, he feels that itch—he wants one of them nearby, to touch and monopolize. But Aiba’s out at dinner, so Nino improvises and instead asks about the schedule for the next day. Once he hangs up the phone, he stares at it for several long minutes before shoving it between the couch cushions and turning on the Wii.

But even after two hours of Mario Kart—stupid to pick that game, it’s always more fun with other people—he’s still thinking about it, what Ohno said. He digs the phone back out of the couch and sends Ohno a text.

_Where are you?_

And though it can sometimes take Ohno days to answer text messages, Nino’s phone pings at him just a few moments later.

_At Jun’s_. And then, only a second later: _Come over?_

Nino feels a swoop in his gut at that, at the stark words on the screen with none of the usual decorations or emoticons, and all Ohno is offering him in just those few characters. But still.

_Can’t_ , he types. He chews a thumbnail while he waits for a reply.

_Why?_

Easy to lie in a text message, but Ohno would know. Somehow, it’s also easier just to say what he really means.

_It’s weird, right? I’d feel kind of...greedy._

A longer pause this time, and Nino wanders into the bedroom with the vague idea that maybe he should sleep. He wonders if Ohno is reading the messages aloud to Jun. Maybe Jun’s telling him what to write. Eventually the phone beeps again.

_Is it still greedy if we all want it?_

*

 _Jun_

By the time Nino gets to Jun he realizes he has a mental check-list: all the members’ names with little tick-boxes next to them, and Aiba and Sho are already marked off. He doesn’t go after Jun because he wants to experiment, or out of jealousy, he just does it because he can, because he wants to, he wants _Jun_.

The thing with Jun is that Nino is realizing how much Jun has grown up, how he’s grown into himself. Some of it’s purely aesthetic, of course—he’s had his teeth straightened, his face has cleared up, and his limbs have gone from awkward and gangly to long and willowy. But in general, Jun is just more comfortable in his own skin. He carries himself with a new confidence that comes from getting lead roles in popular dramas and being heavily involved in concert planning. But Nino also knows this about Jun: underneath it all, there is still the self-conscious kid who used to be shorter than Nino and was so careful to call everyone _senpai_.

Jun won’t be easy: not eager like Aiba, not as accommodating as Sho. Nino will have to get past Jun’s polite, distant exterior to the soft marshmallow center. Jun he has to romance, he has to work to convince.

After some debate, he decides to ask Ohno for advice. He’s thought for a long time that there might be something going on there—Jun touches Ohno and lets Ohno touch him in very different ways than he allows anyone else. Whether or not that’s indicative of something more than a handsy friendship, Ohno is unarguably the one who can always make Jun smile.

“I just want to do something nice for him,” Nino says with flawless sincerity, but Ohno still raises a skeptical eyebrow. “And yeah, maybe I’m trying to butter him up a little. But what do you think?”

“Simple is best,” Ohno says in heavily accented English, after a moment’s thought. “And his birthday is coming up.”

“Perfect,” Nino says with a smile.

So Nino starts planning his attack. He also knows that there’s no need to be too subtle about what he’s trying to do. He starts giving Jun lingering glances and touches, being extra nice and letting Jun have the first coffee out of the pot in the mornings, and keeping Aiba away from him when he’s trying to nap. Nino meets all of Jun’s suspicious glares with his most disarming grin.

On the actual day of Jun’s birthday, Nino needs to get into Jun’s apartment, which he does easily—Jun gave them all spare keys with some vague excuse about how me might need them to water his plants when he’s on vacation, but everyone knows Jun is thinking about things like people needing somewhere to stay if they get dumped, if they miss the last train, if they get caught in the rain.

Nino’s there when Jun gets home, lounging on his couch and reading one of Jun’s manga. And Nino takes care of him that night, helping him cook dinner (because Jun likes to cook, after all, and can never trust anyone else alone in his kitchen), he sets the table, lights some candles. It’s a little over the top maybe, but Nino is a man on a mission. They talk about work over dinner, about what’s on TV, about how Jun wants to go to Italy next summer if he has the time. Nino insists that Jun stay at the table and relax while Nino takes up the dishes.

When he comes back and flicks off the light, he hears Jun’s little intake of breath, and Nino grins in the light of the candles on the little cake he’s holding. It’s one of those small, chocolate and strawberry creations that Jun probably gets for his girlfriends, with a little plaque that says “♥ Happy Birthday Jun ♥”, done in white chocolate and piping. Nino tells Jun to make a wish and blow out the candles, and despite Jun’s protests, Nino can see the faint flush of pleasure on his face. Once Jun’s had time to sample the cake and declare it delicious, Nino brings out his present.

“Um, okay,” Jun says, holding the little round package in his hand. “So...a bath bomb?”

“Yup,” Nino grins. “I think you should use it right away.”

“What?”

“Like right now,” Nino elaborates. “You go take a bath. Then I’ll take a bath.”

Jun stares down at his gift as if this is a very difficult decision. “So...you’re staying over?” he says eventually.

“Yeah,” Nino agrees. “You’re not gonna make me sleep on the couch, are you?”

“Well,” Jun begins tentatively, “there’s a spare futon in—”

“Actually,” Nino interrupts. “I was hoping I could just sleep with you.”

Jun’s head snaps up at that, but again, Nino can’t be too subtle. If Nino only makes hints at his intentions, even if Jun figures it out, he’d be second-guessing himself all night and they’d never get anywhere. He can tell by the way Jun’s looking at him that Jun _gets it_ , but Nino begins to wonder if he hasn’t presumed too much, because Jun’s eyebrows are furrowed, so uncertain.

“Oh,” Jun says quietly. He fiddles with the ribbons on the bath bomb, needlessly rearranging them. “Oh. Okay. So...Okay. And—then what?”

Nino really wants to kiss him. To just climb in his lap and reassure him that way, but this is the most dangerous part with Jun, this is something he has in common with Sho: he’s so serious sometimes. Nino has a feeling that Jun is serious about sex, too, that he doesn’t do casual relationships, but Nino doesn’t want this to be something either of them has to worry about after tonight, if they don’t want to.

“And then we go to sleep,” Nino says simply. “And we get up in the morning and go to work, and nothing changes. It’s just us. Is that okay?”

“So, what,” Jun asks, raising an eyebrow, his voice just this side of angry. “All this—the nice-guy routine, the candles, the cake—this was all so you could get into my pants?”

_Careful_ , Nino cautions himself, _carefully now_. He props his chin in his hand and gives a little smile he knows Jun is weak against. “That wasn’t the _only_ reason,” he says. When Jun doesn’t look convinced, Nino lets his expression soften a bit. “Look, I just—I don’t want anything complicated. I just want you.”

Once Nino’s finished speaking, Jun looks up and Nino feels his heart skip a few beats. Which he finds really irritating, actually, that he’s just as susceptible to Jun’s wiles as all the fangirls, but Jun’s got that look on his face, the one he gets in his more romantic dramas sometimes—fragile and open, like his whole heart is laid out for the taking. Nino holds his gaze, and waits. For what feels like a very long time, but then Jun takes a deep breath, and stands.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m going to take a bath.”

As Jun leaves the room, Nino finds he’s actually surprised that it worked. That Jun’s going along with it. A few minutes later, water starts to run in the bathroom—it sounds more like a shower than a bath, but Nino’s not particularly offended that Jun’s not using his new present—and Nino feels suddenly nervous. He glances at the door and momentarily entertains the idea of bolting.

He doesn’t, in the end. Not only would that piss Jun off royally, but Nino finds his desire to stay is even stronger. He still wants Jun, wants to check him off the list—that’s all it is, he tells himself firmly. That’s all. Nino is waiting outside the bathroom when Jun comes out with only a towel slung around his hips and his hair wet and tangled around his ears. When their eyes meet, Nino swallows hard. Jun pauses, and for a moment, it seems like something is about to happen, like they are both on the verge of a sudden forward movement. But then Jun lets out a breath and steps around Nino with a muttered “shower’s all yours”.

Nino washes quickly, just enough to come out smelling soapy, trying not to think. About why Jun agreed to this, about where he’s seen that look on Jun’s face before (the way he used to look at Sho, the way he looks at Ohno now, and maybe Aiba sometimes, too, maybe all of them). Because if he thinks about it too hard, he might realize this is more than just a check-list, this is maybe something he can’t really control. Luckily, once he’s in the bedroom, thinking isn’t something he needs to worry about.

This time it’s Nino who walks in wearing only a towel, and Jun is in the bed staring at a book that he is probably only pretending to read. Their eyes meet and catch from across the room, and their aborted motion forward resumes again—Nino is barely aware of crossing to the foot of the bed, and by the time he gets there Jun has already crawled over the mattress to meet him, kneeling up for a demanding kiss.

Nino’s towel is almost instantly a lost cause, and he wastes no time in divesting Jun of the pajamas he inexplicably put on after his shower. Which is a little difficult with how Jun will barely let him up for air, kissing him like Nino is the only source of oxygen in the room. Nino is not even surprised, this time, when he starts imagining Jun like this with the others: would Jun mark Sho’s skin like Nino had, and what would he look like tangled up with Aiba, all their long limbs moving together, and what about Ohno, what wouldn’t Jun do for Leader, whom he so clearly adores. He’s comparing them again, but this time Nino can see most easily the comparison between himself and Jun. They are both so eager, so obvious, they have both of them been waiting so long, just for this.

Too eager, it seems, because all it takes is their hips pressed flush and rocking together in a rough rhythm before they are both coming between their bellies, hard and fast. Nino almost sobs with it, because it’s not fair, it’s not enough.

His eyes flutter open, and here again he finds something he and Jun have in common:

“Hmm,” Jun says with a slow smile, “we can do better.”

*

 _We all want it. We all want it._

The words seem to ring in Nino’s ears for days after reading Ohno’s last message. He pushes them away again and again, but they are always there in the background of his mind, like music playing softly in another room. He can’t think about it because it’s too good to be true, it’s not something that happens in real life. Right? It’s having the cake and eating it, too—it just doesn’t work that way.

But he’s watching his bandmates differently now, on set, in the break room. And when he takes them home, too. Just because he hasn’t given Ohno any kind of definitive answer yet doesn’t mean he can go for very long without taking one of them to bed. He watches them and lets all his repressed imaginings run wild, different combinations of two, and three, and five. There’s no denying, now, that Nino wants them, all of them, but surely they can’t _all_ want the same thing?

Nino’s known for a long time now that he can’t choose just one member of Arashi, because if he chooses just one of them, he can’t have any of the rest of them. Like this, just fooling around, he doesn’t have to choose. But if he tries to have them all at once, something is bound to go wrong: someone will get hurt, someone will get left out, or left behind.

Nino is on set for _Freeter_ , practicing filling out resumes for an upcoming scene, and still trying not to think about it. But then, on his thirty-seventh resume, Nino stops, struck. And it really does feel like being struck, like his body is a bell reverberating out from the core.

Because he realizes that he’s already made up his mind.

*

 _Ohno_

It’s a surprise to everyone but Nino that Ohno is the last to get checked off the list. Because despite all the skinship, all the public cuddling and declarations of love, Ohno is the one Nino knows the least about, really. Ohno never talks about his personal life, and he really never has accepted any of Nino’s invitations to go out to eat. Sure they’ve pretended to make out in front of thousands of screaming fans, but it’s always just been for fun, for show.

The simple fact is that Nino has always been tactile, has had a need to touch. But over a lifetime of getting funny looks at best and shoved away violently at worst, Nino has learned to recognize the people who are most receptive to his touches. It just happens that Ohno is one of those people. Touching Ohno is like taking a deep, calming breath, or a drag on a cigarette: something about Ohno refocuses Nino’s nervous energy. Aiba has posited that perhaps they have similar brainwave frequencies, and it’s true that they laugh at the same jokes, and have an uncanny ability to know exactly what the other is thinking at any given moment.

Maybe because of this, Ohno has always gone along with whatever Nino does, whatever Nino wants. When Nino finally takes Ohno home after ten years, he’s almost mad at himself: it was so easy, he could have had this years ago, he could have had it from the beginning. But it’s taken so long for Nino to get this far, and Ohno never did anything about it, so Nino could never be sure. It makes sense to Nino that in the end, like always with them, he’s the one that takes the initiative. So Nino is a little surprised when, thinking Ohno’s followed docilely along again right into Nino’s bed, Ohno says: “I was waiting.”

They’re in Nino’s apartment, Nino having dragged Ohno here after yet another ten-year anniversary celebration in their honor. They’re both a little tipsy, but Nino’s still with it enough to be annoyed at the interruption. Especially now that he’s discovered what a good kisser Ohno is.

“Waiting for what?” Nino grumbles, returning his attention to getting Ohno’s shirt unbuttoned.

“My turn,” Ohno replies dreamily. Nino’s shirt is already long gone, and Ohno’s hands have found their way down Nino’s pants and are cupping almost proprietorially around Nino’s ass.

Nino looks up again at that. “What?”

“I know about the others,” Ohno says, breath damp against Nino’s ear as he nuzzles into Nino’s cheek. “I don’t mind,” he adds, like an after thought. “I was just impatient.”

“Oh.”

Ohno leans up to capture Nino’s mouth for another thorough kiss, and Nino tries to concentrate on that, on Ohno getting more naked by the minute. But Nino feels his heart beating a little harder, more erratically. Ohno _knows_. Do they all know? Nino can’t tell if he’s relieved or terrified by the thought. Maybe they talk about it, after. Nino imagines Jun whispering all the details of their last encounter to Ohno in a close, dark room somewhere. Or maybe Aiba, with those breathy giggles of his, to Sho, his hand cupped to deliver the words secretly to Sho’s ear. Would Sho get excited, hearing about it, would Ohno? Would it get them hot?

It’s still distracting Nino through getting the rest of Ohno’s clothes off, spreading Ohno out on the bed, slicking up his own fingers. Ohno watches it all with a small, bemused smile and heavy-lidded eyes.

“You think too much,” Ohno whispers, and Nino wonders if he really is a mind-reader or something.

“You talk too much,” Nino says at the same time as he slides one finger into Ohno. There is very little resistance, but Ohno writhes and gives a shuddering gasp and Nino decides in an instant that it’s one of the sexiest sounds he’s ever heard.

Ohno does stop talking after that, though, especially once Nino starts sucking his cock, slow and leisurely and in time with the movement of his fingers inside of Ohno. Instead, Ohno’s hands settle in Nino’s hair, fingers curling and uncurling while Ohno lets out little gasps and broken off breaths that might have been words. Nino takes his time, working Ohno up until he’s practically sobbing with need, then easing him back down again, working him back up. Maybe Nino’s still a little annoyed that Ohno was waiting all along and never did anything, he wants to hear Ohno _say_ it.

“Nino,” Ohno says finally, voice breaking. “C’mon, I need it, just—”

Nino lets Ohno’s cock slide out of his mouth, pulls his fingers out of Ohno’s ass slow, slow, slow.

“What, Oh-chan?” Nino asks, crawling up Ohno’s body to lean over him. “What do you need?”

Ohno lets out a little huff of air. His hands are still tangled up in Nino’s hair and when he pulls Nino close to speak directly into his mouth, it is much more like a command than a request.

“I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

Nino would be embarrassed at the whimper that he lets out, but now Ohno is sucking on his tongue, and honestly he doesn’t know how he held out this long himself. He positions himself at Ohno’s entrance, working mostly blind because Ohno won’t let him go, and then he’s pushing in, a long steady stroke that has Ohno arching up off the bed.

Then Nino starts thrusting in earnest, and Ohno just hangs on. Ohno legs are wrapped high and tight around Nino’s waist, his heels pushing insistently into Nino’s lower back. He pulls Nino’s hair and makes the most ridiculously sexy noises in Nino’s ear, but that’s it, and Nino almost laughs—lazy, why are they all so lazy?

And then, so suddenly Nino almost doesn’t realize what’s happening, Ohno comes between them, with a last little noise almost like a sigh. Nino tries to catch up, to speed up, but Ohno clenches around him, keeping him still.

“The fuck, Leader,” Nino whines. “Let me—”

“Wait, wait,” Ohno murmurs, shifting and forcing Nino to pull out. He sits up, pushes Nino back. “Let _me_.”

Nino barely has time to voice his confusion before Ohno is easing him onto his stomach. Ohno pulls Nino’s hips up and back a bit, slides some pillows under him for support. Ohno slides his hand under, too, fisting it loosely around Nino’s cock in the lightest, most teasing of touches. Nino whines again, and he doesn’t care, he stopped caring a long time ago about sticking his ass in the air to be fucked, as long as Ohno just _gets on with it_.

“Patience is a virtue,” Ohno sing-songs, mind-reading again, and starts kissing his way across Nino’s shoulders and back. Ohno’s free hand is kneading at Nino’s ass, spreading it, and when Ohno’s kisses keep moving downward, Nino realizes in an instant what is about to happen and it pulls a desperate noise out of his throat. A moment later he feels Ohno’s tongue sliding between his cheeks, and then inside him.

This is not something Nino would normally allow, it’s not something he’s ever tried because it has always seemed a few steps outside of his comfort zone. But this is Ohno, and it feels so good, and Nino’s just as bad as Jun, really—he would do anything for Ohno.

Ohno licks in again, deeper, and Nino thinks _For any of them, not just Ohno, for all of them_. He would, he’d do anything for Arashi, he’s fooling himself if he thinks he wouldn’t let all of them have him whatever way they wanted. And it’s that thought, the idea of all of them, taking turns, doing whatever they want to him, that sends Nino over the edge. He comes, shuddering and gasping, into Ohno’s hand.

And now Nino’s list is finally all checked off. He’s had them all, there’s nothing more he can ask for. But there’s more that he wants. He can’t stop at this. He never voices his desire, he never tells any of them what he thinks about when he’s with them, but the idea never really leaves his head.

But, after almost another year of fooling around, it still sends a chill of terrified anticipation down Nino’s spine when Ohno says, in that dreamy, dreamy voice: “We should just invite the others over, too.”

*

Once Nino finishes work for the day, he sends Ohno a message, starts the same way he did last time.

_Where are you?_

And Ohno responds swiftly again. _Home._

Which means Ohno’s apartment now, not his parents’ house. Good. _Are you alone?_

_Aiba’s coming around 10, but._

Nino grins. Seems appropriate somehow, that it be Aiba and Ohno.

_Can I come over, too?_

*

Almost an hour later, Ohno is opening his apartment door and smiling, but Nino doesn’t step in right away. Nino takes a breath for the little “don’t say I told you so” speech he had been mentally preparing on the way over. But he never gets to it, because he glances behind Ohno and notices several very familiar pairs of shoes in the _genkan_.

Ohno follows the line of Nino’s gaze and grins sheepishly. “I made a couple calls,” he says, and pulls Nino inside before he can protest.

And they’re all there in Ohno’s living room when Nino comes stumbling in, all in different poses of anxious waiting: Jun is standing by the window, Sho is seated in Ohno’s ratty armchair with his elbows on his knees, while Aiba is slouched low on the couch. They all turn to Nino and Ohno when they enter, and for a moment, no one knows what to say. Finally, it’s Aiba who breaks the silence.

“Nino,” he says, sitting forward excitedly. “You came.”

But Nino already wants to leave. He feels exposed, stupid. Like he was the last one invited to the party. He’s not sure how he imagined this going down, but not like this, with everyone gathered in Ohno’s apartment like they’re having a family meeting or something. Like they’re going to talk about it, which has never been Nino’s strong point.

“Yeah, but I,” Nino begins, “uh, I can’t stay, I was just—”

He doesn’t realize he’s trying to back up until he runs right into Ohno, who puts a gently restraining hand on his shoulder. Ohno gives him a look of confusion, worry.

Then Sho is crossing the room, and he takes one of Nino’s hands. “It’s okay,” he says. “We don’t have to say anything, we can just...” He trails off, but his eyes track meaningfully towards the bedroom door.

“I—” Nino’s heart is pounding, and part of him wants to just take Sho’s hint. Aiba and Jun have wandered over now, too, all of them close enough that Nino can hear their unsteady breathing, smell all their particular smells. But he needs them to know why he’s here. If it’s going to be all of them, it can’t just be fooling around and never talking about it, Nino realizes.

“What made you change your mind?” Jun asks, meeting Nino’s eyes over Sho’s shoulder. Nino sees Sho shudder a bit, and glances down to see Jun’s hand moving idly over Sho’s belt buckle. Ohno’s hand on Nino’s shoulder has moved down to his waist, thumb skimming up under the fabric of Nino’s shirt. Meanwhile, though Aiba’s eyes are still focused on Nino, one of his hands is creeping around Ohno’s hip.

“I,” Nino begins again, and has to swallow past the nervous lump in his throat. “It’s just that, with us—with Arashi—it’s always better if...if it’s all of us. Right?”

Slowly, smiles blossom on all the faces around him.

“Yeah,” Ohno says for all of them. “It’s better, this way.”

And then there are four pairs of arms reaching for Nino, wrapping him up, and for once his imagination fails him. Because he can’t imagine anything better than this.


End file.
